


Custard Creams

by FandomN00b



Series: Gifts and Prompts [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Modern Thedas, Multi, Polyamory, big soft polyamorous family, dystopian Walmart parking lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomN00b/pseuds/FandomN00b
Summary: Prompt froma-productive-manoron tumblr:“I have a prompt for you too - the last packet of biscuits (cookies) was taken leaving no cookies - what happens next. Character question - so we all know that Anders like wearing silky underwear, but what about Fenris?”
Relationships: (they're all married to each other and living happily ever after in a stolen motor home), Anders/Hawke/Fenris/Isabela/Merrill/Varric
Series: Gifts and Prompts [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636435
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Custard Creams

Fenris likes lighter fabrics like cotton and linen...things that breathe. Certainly no polyester mixes for him...they aggravate his markings. Once he started wearing those damn cotton pajamas Isabela stole from the spa’s laundry bins when they fled Kirkwall in her stolen RV, he has yet to wear anything that isn’t loose and baggy. 

He looks at his leather jacket hanging in the tiny closet and sighs. He hasn’t worn it since they left because “it’s too recognizable,” but really...what was he ever thinking with all the leather and the spikes and the... _safety_ he sought in such structure and distance? 

He laughs at the complete lack of both of these things in their lives now, meandering from town to town whenever they can scrape together enough money for gas, or as soon as anyone starts to recognize them. Or they piss off a fresh set of locals.

Just as he’s finished smearing peanut butter on the slices of bread he’s laid out for sandwiches (Hawke likes the crust cut off of hers, Merrill likes sprouts on hers for some reason, and Anders about died the last time he cut his into the shape of a cat), he hears hollering outside. Sounds like it might be time to move on to the next Wal-mart parking lot. 

“I can’t believe you ate the last of my custard creams, Rivaini!”

“I didn’t know you were so attached to them! Since when do you even _like_ sweet things?”

He recognizes _both_ voices. Mom and Dad are just bickering again, he realizes, with a bit of relief. He prefers not to have to fight off an angry mob on an empty stomach.

“They help me write the fluffier parts!”

“Ew, but why would you ever want to...”

Fenris is standing in the doorway of the trailer in just his light pink spa pants (or are they Hawke’s?), licking the peanut butter off of a knife and glaring at them now.

Varric clears his throat and nods toward him, and Isabela understands now. The fluffier parts are almost always about Fenris.

“Hey, sexy...” Isabela coos. “Did we wake you?”

“Please don’t make a scene,” he drawls. “And I’m making lunch.”

“It’s 10am, Elf.”

“Brunch, then. Stop yelling.” And he disappears back inside the trailer, leaving them in their plastic folding chairs to continue bitching more quietly at each other in the parking lot. It seems to be one of their favorite activities lately, and who is he to deny them this, provided they can keep it between them?

“Are you going to include the fact that he’s making us all sandwiches in Anders’ pants?” Isabela whispers.

“Of _course_ I am. Just as soon as you get me another packet of biscuits.”

“He’s going to murder you, you know. Stick that ghost fist of his right through your magnificent chest hair...” she purrs, staring at the ridiculous cock ring he wears just to draw extra attention to it.

Varric wags a thick finger at her and smiles. “Bring me my biscuits. Then I’ll let you pet it.”

Isabela huffs, then grabs the coffee can they keep their combined funds in, digging through the change for some bills.

They hear an abrupt _zzZZIIPPP!_ and then Hawke yells “CIGARETTES!” from the back window of the trailer where she’s still pretending to be asleep. “The kind with tar and arsenic, please!” Apparently, Merrill’s ‘all-natural’ cigs made of dandelions and elfroot buds aren’t cutting it for her.

“I don’t know when I became the courier for this group of miscreants...” Isabela mutters as she stands up.

Anders shuffles out of the trailer in nothing but a tunic that barely covers his ass...and slipper boots. “I can go...” he yawns, rubbing the sleep and hair out of his eyes.

“That’s very sweet of you.” Isabela pats him on the shoulder, turning him right back around. “But why don’t you go work on putting some pants on instead? Ask Fenris for help...and eat one of his sandwiches while you’re at it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This random prompt fill (which was my first ever attempt at writing a modern Thedas) inspired my post-Internet zombie techno sprawlpocalypse AU [Dark Sprawl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849573) (which is really just a reskin of Origins so far, but I hope to get back to it in earnest some day)...whoops!


End file.
